


Can't Keep My Eyes Shut

by Charmingwolf



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Gen, Lack of Sleep, Sleep Deprivation, mundane tasks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:11:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmingwolf/pseuds/Charmingwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry can't sleep. He just can't and it sucks. What will the Immortal do with his time?<br/>Maybe get his fingers stuck in test tubes again. I don't know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Keep My Eyes Shut

**Author's Note:**

> (some parts might seem weird but i have decided to use this fic for a school assignment. so thats why there are some needless explanations)

Henry tossed and turned in his bed. The blankets were not sitting right. His thoughts were rushing by before he could catch them and he had this itch in the center of his back that he couldn't quite reach. All the signs were screaming at him to get out of bed and move around. Literally everything, even the clock that hadn't moved since 11:34 pm was screaming at him to get out of bed. Henry let out a huff then threw his blankets off and got out of bed. He headed for the kitchen to maybe get a drink then felt bad for not making his bed and turned around.

Henry always made his bed. Ever since he got married to his late wife Abigail, he made the bed.She made dinner and tea and put up with all of Henry’s nonsense, making the bed just seemed like one of the only things he could do for her. It was now a habit that felt wrong not to continue. He knew that no one would ever see his room but it has gotten to the point where Henry just likes the way a clean bed looks

Back in his room, Henry took his pillows off the bed and placed them neatly on the floor, then stripped the blankets off and folded them next to the pillows. He always started from scratch so that everything was just perfect. The sheets were re-tucked under the mattress, making sure they were as tight as possible before pulling his first blanket on. The first blanket was soft and fluffy and just enough to keep him warm on summer nights or nice to cuddle with on days where he just wanted to read and drink tea. The second blanket was a large comforter with pale blue and orange designs on it.

Abe, Henry’s son, didn’t like the comforter, despite knowing so much about it, and would often threaten to burn the comforter. Henry argued that Abigail chose the blanket for one of their old houses and she was so in love with it. Abe, who couldn’t argue with that, would then drop the subject and go back to doing whatever it was he had started before.

Henry held the blanket like it was the most important thing in the world. He had only a few things left that belonged to Abigail, each thing had to be taken care of, even though this blanket would probably be lost in any move henry would have to make in the future. With the comforter arranged evenly on the bed, Henry started to put his pillows on. He put the comfortable sleeping pillows on first, then went to the closet where he kept the decorative pillows. They matched the comforter to an extent but were newer and didn’t share the design or the same wear on the color, but Henry worked with what he could find. Eventually, satisfied with his bed making abilities Henry took a step back and smiled at his work before noticing he had quite a lot of clothes in his hamper.

“Well that just won’t do,” Henry muttered to himself as he picked up the hamper and brought it to laundry room.

The sleep deprived man went through his whole routine of sorting and washing his clothes. When the machine was running he sat in front of it and watched it spin around and around. He had hoped that watching this would make him tired and he would fall asleep but no such mercy came. The washer beeped and Henry moved the clothes into the dryer and started another load. When everything was in order he left the room and went to the kitchen for some tea.

The kettle was set on the stove. Henry found that it was 1:02 when he looked up at the clock. He smiled knowing that time was now moving at the proper speed and not frozen. Henry sat at the table, comfy in his robe, and read through the various papers that were stacked on the table. Most were for Abe’s research in his hunt for new pieces he would buy, under it all was a new paper with circled obituaries. Henry couldn’t help but read the headline.

**Serial Killer Loose in New York**

It was vague, but Henry knew what that case was. He was working on it. The bodies were dissected in the same way. The victims had seemly no connections and the work was so clean. He knew the killer had some kind of medical experience and also a pretty good knowledge of how to cover his tracks but that wouldn’t stop Henry from hunting the man down. Every time a new body came in he took it as a challenge but something about the case just seemed off. Each cut was too perfect, every change made to the organs was a little too uniform.

Henry waved away the thoughts of the unsettling case and looked at the clock again. 1:20.

“Shouldn’t the kettle have gone off by now…” 

He stood up to check, he placed his hand on the kettle. It was still cold. Henry let out a sigh of frustration as he noticed he never turned the stove on. He clicked on the stove and went back to the table. Henry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He felt useless not having anything to do but what could one do at 1— Henry checked the clock again.

“1:37 in the morning,” he muttered to himself.

There was a long silence that stretched to the streets outside. Even though New York never sleeps, the sound of cars molded into the background and a comfortable silence was all that was left. Henry relaxed in his chair and closed his eyes again. He let his head fall back on the chair. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to sleep.

He jumped at the sound of the Kettle squealing. Henry groaned. So close but so far away to what he truly wanted: a good nights sleep so he could function properly at work. The man forced himself up and walked to the stove. He took it off the heat and turned off the flame.

As he made tea he thought about all the late night moves he had to make over the course of his life. From the UK to the USA, around different parts of New York. They were all terrible moves. It was hard to uproot his whole life. Well not only his life but the life of his wife and son. Moving was always hard for him. He’d always been the kind of person to stay in one place.

Henry had successfully made tea and he was happy. He was warm and at peace in the silence. He closed his eyes in between sips and hummed happily. He almost forgot that it was way too early for any reasonable human to be awake. He finished his tea, cleaned the cup and saucer and put them away.

He thought that maybe he was paranoid or that his brain needed to be settled. A sort of tickle arose in his nose and he sneezed as he started to go down into the antique shop, then to his lab in the basement. With his paranoia, Henry found himself looking around corners and under the many tables in his lab. Just in case.

No one. Henry let out a held breath and settled in behind his desk. He shuffled around the many papers on the desk. Organizing and reorganizing until he was happy with the state of things.

For about the next few hours he stared at the wall. He didn't mean to stare at the wall for so long, it just sort of happened. No important thoughts went through his head in that time, mostly just a craving for more tea, a slight wondering if Abigail had noticed him gone and then realisation that she couldn't. Thoughts of Abigail were common when Henry didn't sleep. He could never quite wrap his head around the idea that she was gone. Why should he still be around if she was not? It didn’t seem fair.

He couldn't find the clock in the lab but he had guessed it was about 4:30 when he finally came back to reality. Henry found that in that time he had been messing with his test tubes to the point that his fingers were stuck. His eyes refused to focus on his fingers as he moved them in their glass prison. He made an attempt to get his fingers out but his other hand was also covered in test tubes. 

The rest of the morning up until Henry had to go to work consisted of Abe coming down to the lab to find Henry frustrated due to his lack of sleep, angrily banging his head on the desk with his fingers still stuck in test tubes. Then Henry went back upstairs, got ready for work, drank tea, ate eggs, and then called a cab.

At work Henry’s mind was fuzzy, he was still having a problem focusing but at least if his fingers got stuck at work he would have help. He was questioned by his assistant, Lucas, if he was drunk to which he just shook his head and chuckled before buckling down to work. When Detective Jo came to check in, she also asked Henry if he was drunk. This time henry just rolled his eyes and explained the most recent bodies’ cause of death. Lucas had to translate a few of his boss’s statements due to them being too slurred to understand. 

It was a damn good thing the Serial killer didn’t strike again that day because Henry was passed out on his desk around lunch time.

**Author's Note:**

> Lost of fun working on this.  
> Hope you enjoy my first Forever Fanfic. hopefully not the last


End file.
